A Doubt of Shadows
by Nevrmore
Summary: Detective Catelyn Tully is one of the best private dicks in town. But when she starts investigating the attempted murder of her son, will she be able to keep cool or will she be swallowed in the flames?
1. The First Pawn Falls

Catelyn stared out into the night, so dark that the lights of every color dotting the horizon, zooming to and fro, blinking on and off were still no match for the blanket of blackness that they were pinned against. She had seated herself as close to the window as she could, trying to focus on the sounds of the street below. They were comforting to her, not like the sounds coming from inside the room. She would glance every so often at the comatose man lying in the hospital bed, but she'd quickly divert her attention away again. The beeps and the chimes from the various equipment he was hooked to were too rhythmic. Too distracting. They kept penetrating her thought process. No, she much preferred the cacophony of the city night. They were random, buzzing all around her. They did not puncture her mind, they enveloped it like warm water. Allowed her to think.

The city was falling to the wolves. Catelyn had gotten out when she could, but now all she felt like a passive bystander, peering in at a pack of wild dogs ripping apart spoiled meat. This wasn't the place she once knew. Thirty-five years and all she still liked about it was the sounds. She glanced back at the man in bed. His handsome face was scratched and bruised. She returned to the window, just staring out for a long while, idly flipping a quarter between her fingers.

The door opened gently behind her. The sound of the wood sliding across the carpet reminded her of steaming coffee. Catelyn turned to see the doctor entering.

"Hey there, doc." She called to him. He looked surprised to see her.

"Detective Tully! What are you doing here at such a late hour? Surely you're not working?" The doctor asked.

"Nah, Luwin. I'm off right now. Just visiting." Tully stood up from her chair and closed the distance between her and the doctor.

"Ah, I see. I'm sorry, I didn't realize you knew the patient." Catelyn chuckled dryly.

"Yeah, I know him all right." She said, sticking her hands in her pockets. "He's my son."

"Your son!" Doctor Luwin exclaimed, suddenly realizing that his ignorance may have caused impolite actions. "I'm so sorry, detective! I had no idea!"

"Yeah, not many do..." Tully said with a wry grin.

"You must forgive me, though. I'm a little confused." The doctor admitted. "The patient's name was listed as Brandon Starcino, but you're Catelyn Tully?" He asked.

"Tully's my maiden name." Catelyn said.

"Oh, so then you're married-"

"-Once." Cat cut the doctor off.

"Ohhh...I'm sorry." He said.

"Don't be. You learn to move on. When a gal like me finally realizes that the fairy tales we grew up with aren't true, we tend to learn a lot of things." There was an uncomfortable silence between the man who didn't want to ask any more questions and the woman who didn't want to answer. Eventually she broke in again, "So, tell me doc. What's the word on Bran, here? What happened, and how's he doing? And don't sugarcoat it just on account of me being his ma."

"Oh, yes, of course. Well, as I'm sure you know, he was brought in at about midnight. He fell from the window of his ninth story hotel room. Luckily, he landed in the courtyard. If he had fallen two feet to the right and hit the concrete, well-"

"-We wouldn't be so lucky, eh?" Cat finished the thought for him, if only because she didn't want to hear what he was actually going to say. She moved over to the wall that was at the head of Bran's bed and leaned against it.

"...Our blood tests reveal that he had quite a lot of alcohol in his system." Doctor Luwin continued. "If I had to guess, I would say that he had opened the window to get some air into the room, and then in his drunken state he tripped over something near the window."

"And took the fast track down to the lobby. Hell of a way to ask for room service." Detective Tully bit the inside of her cheek. "That all makes sense to me, doc. I guess my only question is, what was Bran doing in a hotel? He's got a house in the 'burbs. A real nice house, I oughta know, I raised him in it. So why's he partying it up down on 93rd street?"

"I couldn't tell you, detective." The doctor answered. Catelyn chuckled dryly again.

"If you could I'd have to ask you to join my firm, doc." She said. She took in a deep breath on the last laugh, which turned itself into a sigh. "So, is he gonna be okay, Luwin? Tell me straight." The doctor suppressed a grimace as he looked down at the paperwork attached to his clipboard.

"Well, he'll live. Everything is stable – heartbeat, lungs, all of that is good."

"But." Catelyn started the sentence for him.

"But...It looks like he'll never walk again." Catelyn bit the inside of her cheek again, this time rather hard. She was silent for several seconds, staring at her son. She studied his face, still so chiseled and handsome even under the caking of cuts and bruises.

"Walking never did him any favors, anyway." She finally said.

"I'm sorry, Catelyn. Do you need a minute?" Doctor Luwin asked sympathetically.

"No, I'm fine. Sorry, doc, I realize I'm holding you up for whatever it is you came here to do to my boy. I'm gonna go get some coffee, okay?"

"Of course, detective." The doctor nodded as Catelyn left the room. She walked down the offensively white hallways idly searching for a vending machine, trying to think as she did. But everything was too distracting. The same sounds of life support machines tapping along refused to let her focus. It was the same reason she never wore a watch, though if anyone asked she would jokingly respond that she didn't ever need to know how late it was because "crime never sleeps."

She also noticed the people glancing at her as she passed. She noticed this everywhere. It was so queer to them to see a woman dressed like her. It had taken a lot of cajoling her very close tailor friend to get him to sew a suit in her size. Even with the rise of the flappers only a couple decades ago, it was still unheard of for a woman to wear such clothing. But it was what an official police detective was supposed to wear, she would argue. And she wanted so much to feel official.

Like she had told the doctor, it was all fairy tales. Now she just wears the suit because it's comfortable. At least, that's what she argues.

Catelyn stopped in front of the coffee vender and shoved four quarters in. She selected a nice iced coffee; Cat never was one for the hot stuff unless it was a particularly chilly day. The detective pulled the coffee out from the flap and took a sip. The delicious taste allowed her to ease her mind a bit off its continuously interrupted logical processes as she walked back to Bran's room.

"What's the word, doc?" Detective Tully asked, sliding back in.

"All his vitals are still fine. I expect he'll wake up soon." The doctor explained.

"How soon is 'soon?' We talking hours or what?" She sipped her coffee.

"No way to tell that, detective. But I wouldn't bet on anything longer than a couple days." Doctor Luwin smiled reassuringly.

"I hope it's not that long. I'm looking forward to my son telling me a little story..." Tully could see that Doctor Luwin was about to ask what she meant, but was cut off when a nurse rushed into the room.

"Doctor! Code Red in room 231!" She said urgently.

"Damn! Sorry, detective, I have to go!" The doctor said, turning.

"No problem, doc. I'll stay here and watch over things. The rest of the family ought to be here soon, anyway." She continued her thought even after the doctor had left and closed the door behind him. Catelyn stared off into space for a few seconds. "Rest of the family..." She said lowly under her breath. Sighing, the detective turned and walked back to the window, staring down at the lights below. She sipped her coffee, pleased by the sound of the steam that reached her ears.

As she drew the cup away and licked her lips she could only think of how strange it was that the iced coffee sounded like it was steaming. Slowly she turned around until she was facing the other side of the room, and the man who had entered it with the brim of his hat hung low over his face. They stared at each other for a long while.

"Sorry to tell you, pal, but visiting hours are over." Catelyn said as she tried to take in as many details about the man as she could. His suit was ill-tailored to him, his beard unshaven. His hands were stuck deep in his coat pockets, as if he were cold.

"Nobody's supposed to be in here." The man remarked, seemingly more to himself than to Catelyn.

"It's my job to be a nobody, bud. Now tell me, if no one's supposed to be in here, what's your story?" Tully could feel her free hand ball slowly into a fist.

"Just doing this boy a kindness." The man pulled his hands from his pockets, revealing the revolver he had been hiding. "No one deserves to live like that, you know." He said in false sympathy, before he leveled the gun at the detective. "Now get out of here, unless you want me to extend my charity to you, too." Tully eyed the revolver carefully. She could see how hard the man was clutching its ivory grip.

"Yeah, I get you." Catelyn said as she very slowly raised her drink and took a sip.

"I ain't joking, lady. Beat it." The man said, taking a step forward. Catelyn continued sipping for another second before she pulled the drink away, smacking her lips and giving a satisfied "Ahh."

"This is a fine coffee." She remarked, smiling. A second later and she had chucked it right into the man's face. The plastic top popped off, sending ice and liquid in every direction. It would have been nice if it had been hot coffee, but the distraction worked just as fine as Catelyn immediately closed the distance between them and forced the man against the wall. "You son of a bitch!" She growled, punching and scratching and trying to force the gun out of his hand as he did his best to fight back. "You son of a bitch! Think you can kill my son? Huh? You think I'm just going to let you? You bastard!"

Catelyn grabbed the revolver around its body, trying to get a good anchor point to force it away from the man. She heard a loud bang and felt a white hot burning on her palm as the assassin pulled the trigger. She withdrew her hand to see the reddened skin curling up like smoke, burned from the heat escaping the barrel. The man used her pain and confusion to forcefully push her backwards, sending her into Bran's bed.

The hitman lunged at Catelyn. She fumbled with her good hand for anything she could use to defend herself and felt her fingers wrap around cold metal. Before the man could pin her she had swung and hit him once, twice right in the head with Bran's bedpan, sending him reeling backwards and his gun clattering to the floor. They both leapt for it, colliding together as they grabbed frantically for the weapon. Catelyn could hardly tell what was happening in the confusion. She just felt his body, the metal of the gun in her hand, the entaglement of clothes and limbs. And then, two gunshots.

The man went limp and slumped to the floor. Catelyn fell into a sitting position on the floor, breathing heavily. She didn't even know how it happened but the gun was in her trembling grip. She looked over at the man. He laid still, his eyes gazing lifelessly at the ceiling fan. Slowly, the detective stood up. She looked from the assassin to his weapon. The grip was ivory, like she had noted before. The revolver itself was very finely crafted with many intricate engravings around its barrel. A Colt Single Action Army. She looked at the man again, at his dirty face and his slack suit. Tully ran her fingers through her hair as she thought, but had to stop as the burn on her palm sang her praises when it connected with her scalp. She withdrew her hand, grimacing, and looked around for something she could patch it with before making her way to the drawer by Bran's bedside. She withdrew a roll of medical gauze from it, quickly wrapping it around her injured hand just as the door swung open again.

"Detective we heard gunsho-Oh my God!" Doctor Luwin exclaimed, seeing the body on the floor. "What happened?"

"Nothing, nothing happened." Tully said, her voice rushed. "I was never here, you understand me?" She tied the gauze to her hand.

"What? What do you mean?" The doctor asked, bewildered.

"You never saw me here, got it? The biggest aide you have walked in to check on Bran and saw this guy, see? They wrestled and he ended up shooting him, right? I was never here."

"I...I'm afraid I don't-" The doctor started, but Tully cut him off.

"Your aide was so shocked by what happened, he broke the window and threw the gun out, got it? And you don't know where it is, do you understand?"

"No, I don't! Tully just tell me-" The doctor was once again cut off as Catelyn lifted a chair and swung it forcefully into the room's window, shattering it.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND, DOCTOR?" She screamed.

"Yes! Yes, okay!"

"Say it back to me!"

"One of our aides found this man in the room, killed him and disposed of the weapon!"

"Good!" Catelyn tossed the chair aside, threw on her trench coat and hat, and stuffed the revolver into her coat pocket. "Now you call the police and tell them that exact story. I've gotta go."

"Where are you going?" Doctor Luwin asked, exasperated.

"93rd Street." Tully answered. "I've got a crime scene to investigate."


	2. Knight Takes Rook

Catelyn's mind was racing.

Her years of experience had let her grow accustomed to going toe-to-toe with mean customers before, but she always had enough of her wits about her to expect it when it was coming. Always knew when to knuckle up. But someone sent an assassin to kill a comatose man. She wasn't ready for that, and she wasn't ready for the consequences of those actions. She kept on flashing back to the moment as if she were a war veteran reliving memories decades old; if he had just had a little more leverage, if she had been just a little weaker, it'd be him racing down the street clutching his coat pocket like it had red-hot diamonds inside.

The gun. Cat's mind kept racing back to the gun like they were handcuffed. She wanted to examine it but she dared not take it out, dared not even reach in to feel it, to assure herself of its existence. But she knew that whatever puzzle she had just fallen into, someone had dropped her the cheat sheet. And by God, she was a cheater.

The lights were still on in the lobby of The Grey Wind Hotel as she approached. Catelyn spared a moment's sympathy for the stiff working the graveyard shift, especially for the shakedown they were about to endure. The detective pushed through the revolving doors sending shivering soundwaves swimming across the linoleum room. She grit her teeth and approached the front desk.

"Hello and welcome to The Grey Wind Hotel. I'm very sorry to say that we currently have no vacancies but you can check back tomorrow if you'd like!" The clerk said cheerfully. Catelyn eyed her up and down; Not much older than a teen. Might explain why she had so much energy at such an ungodly hour.

"That's alright, I'm not looking for a room. I was hoping you could help me out..." Catelyn glanced at her nametag, "Lanny." She finished with a forced smile.

"Oh, of course. What can I do for you, ma'am?" Lanny smiled back. Hers was more practiced.

"I'm looking for the room that Brandon Starcino was staying in. Can you tell me the number?" The detective asked.

"Sure thing! Let me check..." The clerk pulled her book of tenants onto the desk and began thumbing through it. Catelyn found it exceptionally odd that the girl didn't react to being asked which room a man fell out of not four hours before. "...Hmm, I don't have anybody in the registry under 'Starcino.' I'm sorry, are you sure you have the right hotel?"

"Yeah, I have the right hotel." Cat said, her tongue digging into her cheek. "Let me refresh your memory, Lanny. The bird who took a dive out the ninth floor earlier tonight. Ring any bells?" She could see the realization stretching across the girl's face.

"Oh...Oh, him." Lanny muttered gravely.

"Yeah. Him."

"Why do you want to know what room he was in?" Lanny asked, suddenly finding herself on the defensive.

"You let me ask the questions here, okay, girly? Now tell me exactly how a man who's not registered in your hotel somehow managed to make it all the way up to the ninth floor. Did he hide in someone's bag, huh?" Catelyn tapped the desk impatiently.

"He wasn't checked into the hotel, no, he was a guest accompanied by another tenant."

"Who was the tenant?" The detective asked as quick as a whip.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but that's confidential." The clerk replied.

"It wasn't confidential a second ago when I asked for someone else's room number." Catelyn ground the inside of her cheek between her teeth.

"The Grey Wind prides itself as being a social hub, ma'am. It's not unusual for friends of guests to show up and need directions to their room, so if you have a name for me then I will gladly tell you the number. But I cannot just give away the identities of two people you obviously don't know."

"Well you just told me there were two of them; that's a start." Catelyn heard the girl's voice stick in her throat.

"Please, I really can't tell you anything else."

"Where are they now?" Catelyn caught Lanny's stare in her own like a vice.

"They checked out." Lanny said quickly, happy that the discussion had moved away from confidential information.

"When?"

"Right after the incident."

"Before the police showed up?"

"That's correct."

"You're telling me that two people who were with the victim at the time of his injury were allowed to just leave before being questioned?"

"They assured us that they did not consider it a police matter."

"'Not a police matter'?" Catelyn repeated incredulously. "Sugar, a man fell 90 feet almost killing himself. That's nearly a seismological matter, and you let them go?"

"They assured us." Lanny said again.

"With how much?"

"Excuse me?"

"How much did you have to pocket to let them go? Enough to cover another shift? Is that why you're so cheerful at this hour of the night?" This made Lanny break her gaze with Catelyn. She diverted it to her feet.

"They hailed a cab." The clerk said after a long silence.

"I don't care how they got away." Cat responded irritably.

"No, I mean, for the man who fell. They put him in the backseat and paid the driver more than enough fare to get him to the hospital." Poor girl was trying to make the best of what she was rapidly understanding to be a bad situation.

"Did they now? Oh, what Saints." The detective responded with so much sarcasm it dripped out of her mouth. Lanny averted her gaze again. Tully began tapping her fingers on the desk once more. "You said they checked out."

"...Yes." The clerk said.

"When I came in you said there were no vacancies." Catalyn felt her eyes narrow.

"Well, the police cordoned off the room. They said not to let anyone use it for at least the night." Lanny said.

"So the cops _were_ here."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And what did they have to say about our mystery guests' sudden and surely innocent, unmotivated departure?"

"They didn't say anything about it, ma'am."

"Of course they didn't." Catelyn sighed as she straightened herself up. "What room was it?" Lanny looked up at her.

"I...I don't know if I should tell you." She said.

"C'mon now, Lanny. Throw me a bone, here." Tully said. The clerk's eyes slowly drifted back and forth from the detective to her registry.

"...Room 913." She said finally. Catelyn gave a genuine smile this time.

"Thanks, you've been a big help." She said, turning towards the elevator.

"Wait, where are you going, ma'am?" Lanny called to her. Cat glanced back at the clerk.

"Room 913, where else?"

"Civilians aren't allowed up there right now! Police orders!" She said fearfully. The girl suddenly seemed very scared that she had just given away information she shouldn't have.

"Well lucky for me I'm not a civilian then, huh?" Catelyn smirked.

"You're...You're not?"

"No, sweetie. I'm a detective." Cat said somewhat proudly. Lanny's eyes were still wide.

"If that's true, then...I'm sorry, I'll have to ask to see your badge!" She said. Cat couldn't help but stifle back a laugh.

"Yeah, sure thing." She said, walking back to the counter. "Here's my badge." She reached into her breast pocket and pulled a flat, golden object from within, tossing it on the counter-top. Lanny picked it up, looked at it, felt it.

"This is made of plastic...This isn't a real badge!" She said, bemused.

"It carries as much weight as any metal badge in this god forsaken town, kid." Catelyn said, moving back towards the elevator. "Don't worry about ringing the bellboy, by the way." She called out as she sidled into the car, the doors closing behind her. Lanny just looked back and forth from the elevator to the badge, highly confused.

As Catelyn rose up the levels, she reviewed everything she knew back to square one. An assassin came for Bran in his hospital room. He was dirty, unkempt, and not particularly adept at his job. An amateur hired on cheap dime. All those qualities fit together except for one piece...

Cat removed the revolver from her pocket and looked it over. It was pristine. The grip had to be from elephant tusk, and the metal shone like silver. Ornate engravings adorned the barrel, spiraling up to the muzzle. Cat opened up the barrel and peered inside. Three bullets remained, sitting next to three empty chambers. She shuddered at the memory, but kept examining. It was in superb condition. Expertly cleaned and cared for. It was more a decorative piece than a weapon. Catelyn had wondered how such a two-bit thug could have gotten his hands on such a nice weapon in such good upkeep. But now it made sense.

Bran was with two people at the time of his fall, and whoever they were, they had money. Catelyn couldn't say for certain at the moment if they were for sure responsible for pushing her son out the window, but they had enough cash to make most people believe they weren't.

Most people.

So Bran takes a dive. They pay off the clerk and the cabbie and are gone before the police arrive. But the police don't ask about them either, which means they have to have them in their pocket. That narrows the possibilities down considerably. It could have only been someone from one of the Seven Families. No one else wields as much power.

Catelyn idly twirled the revolver in her finger as she thought. So whether or not the perps are responsible for Bran's injury, they don't want to look it. And they're smart enough to know that if Bran wakes up, he's going to finger them. Even if they had nothing to do with it; the boy always jumped at opportunities. That's why they call him Brandon the Builder, after all. Always building up a new scheme. So they have two choices after learning that Bran was alive and was expected to recover: Let him wake up and hope for the best, or make sure he stays silent. And they have enough money to ensure his silence.

Silence is golden, after all.

Catelyn grabbed the handle of the revolver, stopping its final revolution short. She stuffed it into her coat as the elevator doors receded into the wall, allowing her entry into the ninth floor. She stepped onto the shag carpet and began working her way down to room 13.

Her thoughts continued. So the perps hire someone on the quick. Some down-on-his-luck deadbeat who'll do just about any dirty job for a quick buck. But their speed in wanting Bran dead also meant that they didn't have time to find a weapon for their hitman. So they gave him one of their display pieces.

Detective Tully reached the door to room 913, which was roped off with yellow police tape. As if that ever stopped her before. She opened the still-unlocked door and stepped through. The room was chilly with a breeze rolling in from the shattered window directly in front of her. Catelyn felt almost silly for making the trek up here just to get cold; she was quite certain she already had the prime suspects before she ever stepped foot inside.

One of the Seven Families.

Obviously, it was not the Starcinos. So they're out.

The Barionis would not have done it, what with Ned and Robert's alliance.

Her Family, the Tullys, also are low on the list. Even though they are no longer bound by marriage, the Tullys and the Starcinos are close friends.

The Arrionos are similarly bound by honor thanks to John's friendship with Ned.

The Martillinis would never dare to strike against the Starcinos, they know they're outnumbered and underpowered.

The Greygios learned what it meant to declare war on the Starcinos years ago. They're not stupid enough to try again.

So that left only one option. And Catelyn knew it even before she picked up the wine that had been bottled in their personal vineyard with a label that read "Lion's Roar Vineyard – 1902. Cabernet Sauvignon." Cat poured herself a glass from the half-empty bottle and swirled it in her hands, smelling it softly. She lifted the glass up and gave a small toast.

"To the Lanistrellis." She said as she took her first sip.


	3. The Queen Moves

Catelyn took the steps back down to the lobby two at a time. She always felt a wave of what might be described as giddiness whenever she cracked a clue to the next path of a case, and she decided she was too antsy to sit in an elevator for nine floors. She could feel her blood pumping, not to mention the wine was making her entire torso feel quite warm. She grabbed the railways at the end of each staircase and whirled around to the next one, feeling close to flying.

_The Lannistrellis._ She repeated to herself. _Should have known. They're the only people both rich enough and arrogant enough to give some cheap turncoat such a priceless gun._ The detective swerved around the stairs again and nearly barreled into a poor bellhop making his way up the stairs, holding a shining silver tray with a bottle of brandy and two glasses on it. He wobbled uncertainly, not wanting to take a step back for fear of not finding solid ground. She caught him.

"Sorry about that, kid!" she said, doffing her hat as she rushed passed him and continued her descent.

_But why?_ she thought. _And who?_ The Lannistrellis had a small core – the father, two sons and a daughter – but like any of the other Seven Families they extended far, even if they weren't all equally loved. Scores of thugs and smugglers who slept, woke and ate in the underbelly of the city carried a badge of Lannistrellian blood in them. A dash of golden hair or emerald green eyes were usually the giveaway. Their heritage was name-only; they tried so hard to make sure the difference between them and the rest of the Families were easy to spot. Cat wondered suddenly if the mug she had dealt with at the hospital might have been one of their kin. She didn't think so; his eyes were a piercing ice blue, she knew that for sure. Didn't get a good look at his hair, though. The detective hoped he was just a random mook. She didn't need the Lannistrellis twisting some story about how one of their own got offed. That was a good way to start a gang war. But then again, so was shoving the son of another major Family out of a highrise apartment window.

It couldn't have been one of the extended family members, Catelyn decided. The hotel itself was high above the pay grade of a drug smuggler, not to mention being able to bribe off the front desk. It had to have been someone close to the main family. But what could Bran have done, what could he have discovered for them to risk their identification so easily? This wasn't adding up...

Cat burst into the lobby and made her way towards the door, intent on getting back to her office so she could sit and think on this information. But a voice stopped her.

"Um...Officer?" it called out. Cat turned around and saw the meek face of the girl at the front desk, Lanny.

"Not officer, toots. Detective." she corrected.

"Oh, okay. Well, detective...I'm...I'm not in any trouble, am I?" Lanny asked. Catelyn could see the fear in her face.

"...No, kid, no." Catelyn said, walking toward her. "You're fine, Lanny. You're not in any trouble."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I'm so sorry. If there's anything I can do to help, just say so. I'm sorry." Catelyn looked at her for a long time, thinking.

"Everything's okay." she said finally. "Just don't accept money from strange people anymore, eh?" she smiled for her to give the poor girl some courage. Lanny gave a shy smile back.

"Right...I'm sorry, do you want the money?" she asked.

"Keep it. That'll be your payment for your information." Cat winked and turned around, leaving the hotel.

Detective Tully walked with heavy footfalls down the sidewalk, hands firmly planted in her pockets as she thought hard. She just passed up the perfect opportunity to find out in a jiff which of the Lannistrellis had pushed Bran. That girl was so scared that she was in trouble, she probably would have agreed to testify in court that she had witnessed the fall herself. It would have been nothing to say that if she let Cat look at the records of who was in that room, she wouldn't be in any trouble. And then Tully would be on her way to the police station right now to let them know the truth of the matter. There were still a few good cops on the force, if her memory served. They'd listen. But she had wasted the chance and had nothing.

No, it wasn't a waste, she told herself. That girl was terrified. She was young and stupid and didn't know what was going on. It wouldn't have been right to exploit her fear. It would have made her no better than the corruption that choked the city like piano wire. It would have been deception for a good cause, but that's how it always started out. The was the first step towards the precipice. No. Catelyn Tully was handcuffed to her honor. And for better or worse, she had swallowed the key.

But it didn't change the fact that she was now acutely aware of how little she truly knew. She had a name, but anybody who walked past the door and spotted the wine on the table could have figured that out. And while it was prudent to discount many of the lower-class kin, there were still quite a lot of close family members that could have been behind it. An uncle; a nephew; a cousin. Catelyn shook her head at the realization of how much was still eluding her. The detective wanted to sit and think, but that was a secondary desire. She passed her office and retraced her steps back to the hospital.

As she walked through the front door, the nurse at the desk called to her.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but visiting hours are over." she said politely. Catelyn shot her a glance.

"Good thing I ain't visting then, isn't it?" she said as she passed her by, her tone biting. Still feeling too antsy to wait, she ignored the elevator and climbed the stairs up to Bran's level. As she made her way towards his room, Doctor Luwin seemed to materialize out of nowhere beside her.

"Detective Tully. I...Didn't expect for you to be back tonight." he said, his voice sounding uncertain.

"Me neither." Cat admitted. "What happened after I left?"

"Well, as you can imagine, the police were called. I told them the story just as you said it. They questioned our aide for a while – you know him, Jimmy Hodor – but the boy is, well, simple. They gave up and left a little while later."

"Good, good." Catelyn said, thankfully.

"There was another thing." the doctor said after a silence. Cat looked at him, eyebrow raised. He took her pause as confirmation to continue. "Ned was here. Uh – Mr. Starcino." Catelyn knew she shouldn't have been surprised but she felt it all the same.

"Yeah? And...What happened?"

"Well, as you can imagine he was here to see his boy. But the police had the room taped off when he arrived, and they didn't want us to move Brandon until after they'd surveyed the area. So I had to tell Mr. Starcino he couldn't see him..." the doctor trailed off and Cat couldn't help but chuckle.

"I feel for ya, doc. I bet old Ned could have fought off your boy Hodor if he was angry enough." she smiled.

"He was...quite unsatisfied, yes. I told him that he could wait until the police were finished, but he would have none of it. He said he would come again tomorrow. I believe he mentioned that if the police were still around he would be having bacon for breakfast."

"Ned was never very good with his quips." Catelyn said. "Anyway, where did you move Bran?"

"Oh, he's four rooms down." Luwin said in a moment of absentmindedness.

"Ah, good. Thanks, doc." Cat began making her way down the hall.

"Wait! Detective, I'm sorry, but visiting hours are over." he said. Catelyn felt her eyes roll at how much of a stickler these guys were for time.

"It's okay, doc. This is business." she said, looking back at him. He hesitated a moment before his posture slackened, and he simply nodded. Catelyn continued down the hallway. She made her way into Bran's new room. It was nearly identical except for the fact that the curtains were drawn closed and there was a conspicuous lack of dead bodies on the floor. Tully walked over to her infirm son, looking at him for a long time. Without all the wires and machines, he looked as if he could simply be sleeping, dreaming a dream. He looked peaceful. Catelyn liked that. She sat down on the chair next to his bed, removing her hat and placing it on the post. She had told the doctor that she was here for business and this time instead of being a half-lie, it was a full-lie. She watched her son for what seemed like hours. And finally, she fell asleep.

Catelyn Tully dreamed, which was an infrequent enough occurrence to be worth mentioning. She dreamed she was a giant, big enough to tower over the entire city. So tall was she that she could see into every alley, peer into every junction, look into every window and see what might be taking place that smaller eyes could not. There was no crime she wouldn't be able to spot, no injustice that she couldn't avenge within moments.

But the city was empty. No cars drove through the streets, no pedestrians moved down the sidewalks. She spied every window in every building, but no one occupied them. It was like she was in a model, a mock city built to appease her. And suddenly she realized how small she really was. She looked up into the sky and saw the true giants standing all around her, bigger than anything she could imagine. She dwarfed the buildings of this city, and the people dwarfed her. She suddenly felt incredibly terrified, and incredibly alone.

"You've always been playing a children's game, detective." a voice boomed high above her, forcing her gaze upward. Catelyn could only see the shadow of the figure beside her, his body piercing through the sky. But he began to lean over, coming closer and closer to her. He reached out towards her with a gargantuan hand, and she realized that she was too scared to move. As the hand closed around her, she could see the face of her ex-husband.

"Detective?" the voice repeated. Catelyn opened her eyes, the world a blur. Everything was much brighter than she remembered. It occurred to her that it must be day time.

"Doctor?" Catelyn asked, recognizing the sound coming from the fuzzy white pillar in front of her.

"You were sleeping, detective." Doctor Luwin said. Cat rubbed the sleep and the disorientation out of her eyes. When she looked up again, everything was right.

"Was I? Sorry, doc. I didn't mean to." she said, suddenly feeling embarrassed. She really hadn't meant to. She stood up, picking her hat off the bedpost. "You know what it's like to be married to your work." she said with a half-hearted smile.

"Indeed." Doctor Luwin concurred. Detective Tully wondered if he ever slept, or if he simply spent every day and every night in the hospital. He was certainly gaunt and pale enough to pass for some sort of ghost, tethered to the world by unfinished business. "Speaking of marriage," the doctor interrupted her flight of fancy. "Mr. Starcino called. Your ex-husband. He asked if the police were still here, and said he would come around in a half-hour." Catelyn bit the inside of her cheek.

"Did you tell him I was here?" she asked.

"No, Detective. I didn't want any awkwardness." the doctor said. Cat sighed in small relief.

"You've always been good to me, doc." she smiled, then glanced at Bran out the corner of her eye. "And my family, too. How's my boy doing?"

"Still stable. I expect he will wake up very soon and make a full recovery." the doctor stopped himself. "Except, of course..." he said. Cat couldn't keep herself from looking at the half of Bran hidden beneath his sheets. Even under the covers and after they had been set, she could still tell how gnarled his legs were.

"Of course." she said. "Well, if Mr. Starcino's coming, I'd best take my leave. Here's my number." Catelyn pulled a card out of her pocket. The words "BLACKFISH INVESTIGATIONS" were embossed on one side, with a picture of an obsidian-colored barracuda snapping behind it. Her name and phone number were on the back. "Call me if there are any developments. If you get a man, that's my assistant Mr. Cassel. Just tell him to leave a message."

"I will, detective." Doctor Luwin said, taking the card and slipping it into his sleeve.

"Oh, and if Mr. Starcino asks, go ahead and tell him that I was here." Catelyn smiled, and walked out the door.

Cat was half-expecting to run into her ex-husband on her way down and would have been lying if she said she wasn't relieved to have missed him. Even united in their mutual grief for their son, she knew he would start the same old routine, dredge up the same old arguments. The same old painful memories.

"You've always been playing a children's game, detective." he would say, as he said a thousand times before. As he said in her dream last night. Every time the word "detective" becoming more and more mocking. Every time she would storm out the room, she could see her sons watching her. Judging her – their own mother – as some sort of self-righteous fool. She shook her head to relieve herself of the memories as she entered into Blackfish Investigations.

"Good morning, Catelyn!" Rodney Cassel greeted her from his desk. He was a good man, but a man made for a chair if there ever was one. His blazer was off and draped over the back of his seat allowing Catelyn to see the sweat stains already accumulating under his arms this early in the morning. Cassel had everything he needed to perform his job right there at his desk to minimize any standing or walking time: phone, pens, paper, liability forms, checks, even his lunch, everything. Cat sometimes wondered if he kept a bucket under his desk so he would never even have to go to the bathroom. It was a queer set-up, half about efficiency, and half about laziness.

"Morning, Rodney." Cat said slightly more curtly than she would have liked. She walked past her assistant and into her office, immediately making her way to the desk where she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a match. It felt like ages since she had a good smoke and Lord knows she needed it.

"Catelyn?" Cassel called to her from her doorway. She was surprised; it wasn't often she saw him move to meet her instead of just calling to her. He rubbed the right half of his great, white Walrus moustache between his thumb and forefinger as he often did when he felt uncomfortable. And Heaven above was well aware of how much standing made the poor man uncomfortable.

"Yes? What is it, Rodney?" the detective asked, taking the first, prized drag of her cigarette and exhaling smoothly.

"You've a message." he said. Catelyn rubbed her chin. Had Doctor Luwin called her already?

"From the hospital?" she asked. Rodney rubbed his moustache all the harder.

"Ah, no, ma'am. This is from your sister." That took the detective aback.

"My sister...?" she asked. Lisa had not voluntarily contacted Cat in years, at least since before she had divorced Ned, and Catelyn had extended her the same courtesy. "When?"

"Last night." Rodney said. "I tried to call your home, but there was no answer."

"Yeah, I got kind of caught up at the hospital." She scratched her chin and knew that Rodney was looking at the bandage around her burnt hand. He said nothing; the man had long since learned to stop asking questions about his employer's escapades. It was easier to avoid being fingered as an accomplice that way. "Well? What'd she say?"

"I don't know. She wired a telegram, and the very first line was specifically addressed to me, saying I was not allowed to read it." Catelyn couldn't help but smile. She sometimes thought that Mr. Cassel was the only man left in the entire city who could follow directions anymore.

"Good job, Rodney. Here, I'll take that, then." Cat stuck her cigarette between the fingers of her bandaged hand and took the letter from Rodney's after a ponderous journey from the doorway to her desk. "You can go back to your desk." She smiled.

"Thank you, ma'am." he said, turning. He stopped before his revolution was complete and glanced back at the detective. "Um, Catelyn?" He asked.

"Yes, Rodney?"

"You don't, uh, need anything for your hand, do you?" his voice was tinged mostly with concern, but with just a bit of hope that he wouldn't have to move any more than he had to.

"No, Rodney. Thank you." Rodney smiled and sojourned back to his desk. Catelyn took another drag of her cigarette and opened up the telegram to read its contents.

"RODNEY DO NOT READ

DEAR SISTER THIS IS FOR YOU

MY HUSBAND JOHN IS DEAD

MURDERED

THE LANNISTRELLIS ARE TO BLAME

HELP

DO NOT RESPOND"

Catelyn exhaled deeply, a curtain of smoke settling over her head. Without a word, she placed the edge of the telegram against the burning end of her cigarette and let it light. The flame trailed up the yellowed paper hungrily and she dropped it to the hardwood floor, stamping it out with her shoe.

"Rodney." Catelyn called out coolly, snuffing her cigarette out in the ash tray on her desk.

"Yes, ma'am?" Cassel said loudly from the other room. Catelyn picked up her pack of cigarettes and matches and left her room, closing the door behind her.

"Hold my calls." she told her assistant as she walked to the entrance. "I'll be out on business." and she was out the door.


End file.
